Another Year
by Miadevil
Summary: Chapter 3 up-- Plot exposition abounds. All your questions are answered. It's epic! Or not.
1. Oops

Artemis Fowl

Non Miserere Dedite

Chapter 1 

****

It is an unseasonably cold night; the man in the dark jacket shivers behind his binoculars.  A gust of wind rises from nowhere and surprises him into dropping the standard-issue-nightvision-300-x-magnification-goggles from his perch in the oak tree.  Bad luck there, and maybe it foreshadows the rest of his night, but he doesn't know that as he curses under his breath.  He can't know how the rest of this evening (his last) will end.

He drops noiselessly from the tree and stoops to grab the binocs, emitting another burst of profanity as he examines the cracked lens.  It doesn't matter though; he's already seen enough to be prepared for his job.  He doesn't know why he's here, on a stealth mission through this large, and seemingly unguarded mansion.  He doesn't know just whose name and description it is that he has on a slip of paper in his pocket.  He doesn't know why his superiors have taken such precautions on this hit, treating it as a suicide mission.

What he knows is that there are no dogs, no gates, and no guards surrounding him.  His scanner yields no laser-defense system, no cameras, but he has enough experience not to trust technology.  It doesn't matter, he is the best in his field, and he is confident (too confident?) that he can handle this low-end job.

Gathering himself, he sprints across the rolling green grounds, dodging spots of light from the ornamental garden lanterns, staying in the shadows and off the paths.  The landscaping is deceptive, and by the time he reaches the sculpted hedge against the house's stone walls, the man is breathing hard and cursing this still-cold May air.

He stays in the shadow of the wall until he is sure that there are no hidden traps, and he then creeps along the stone stretch to where massive columns shield the large wood-and-glass double doors.  

This is the tricky part, the man knows, and he allows himself a few long breaths before he delicately feels the stem of one doorknob.  Twisting the handle won't do; there are sensor alarms for such things, and he knows already that the doors are locked.  The man pulls his hand back and reaches to the back of his jacket (no bag for him, it only gets in the way) for the long wire fastened to the neck.

A pick may be archaic and elementary; certainly his higher-ups have said so, but this man (as we've said) does not trust technology, not even the electronic skeleton key they have provided him.  He prefers tools that he knows, and over thirty years getting acquainted with lock picks have given him the skill that he needs to pick this inordinately difficult lock.

Finally, he hears a minute click and pulls the wire out, pleased.  His satisfaction cannot last long though, for the next step is the most dangerous (hit-or-miss), and if he has any gods, he should be praying to them now.

He checks the electronic scanner again and grimaces at the display that tells him there is no alarm, not even an automatic _beep when the door is opened.  He hopes this is true, and wonders, not for the first time, what business he has in this peaceful, and to all appearances, unsuspecting residence._

Another deep breath, and the man twists the handle and pushes the door open, stepping in quickly.  He feels a surge of good-will towards the scanner; it has told true and there is no alarm.  He shuts the door behind him gently, and only the small click of the handle interrupts the sleeping household's silence.

One more tentative step on the thick dark rug, and he pulls from his memory the blueprints of this place, and the location of his target.  He is still for a few minutes, then shakes off his inertia and heads towards the sweeping stairs in front of him.  He is uneasy now, but he doesn't know why.

The house is dark and silent around him; all his senses are alert, his instinct screaming, but there is no sound, and the frequent, furtive glances over his shoulder yield nothing.  He is now at the bottom of the stairs, and he pauses for one second, just another breath, even though he knows that he should just _get the hell out of this house._

Just one second, just one mistake, but it's enough, and even before the man feels the grip on his wrists, he knows that it's over.  He doesn't deserve this, but again, he couldn't have known about the enormous figure looming behind him, or the smooth handcuffs that are snapped around his wrists as he is led away.  But he does know that struggle is useless, for the man behind him is built like a steam engine, all iron and steel and strength.  

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Artemis Fowl was happily asleep and dreaming when he was so very rudely roused from his bed.  There weren't many nights that he got to sleep as long as he had already this night, and for a few moments, he tried to ignore the way that his bed was suddenly shaking beneath him.  It was probably just a rogue earthquake, right?  Right.

Oh wait, he was the one that was shaking.

He rolled over and squinted at the dark shadow that was hovering over him, one of its huge hands still on his shoulder.  

"Butler?  Butler if it's about the Microsoft stock, I don't want to know until the morning, I don't care how much we lose, I want to sleep please, just let me sleep....."

Not very dignified, but he was tired, dammit. 

"It isn't about the stock, Master Artemis.  Microsoft seems to have pulled out of its plunge, and you have made a few hundred thousand, but that's not why you need to wake up."

Artemis groaned.  "Then w_hy?  Mother and Father haven't called from Tokyo, have they?  No, they already called tonight. Never mind.  Just tell me!"_

"I've caught an intruder," Butler said.  "He appears to be...well, I suspect that he is an assassin."

"_Another one?"_

"Yes, sir.  I have taken the liberty of putting him in the holding room; he won't escape, but I suggest that you question him immediately."

Artemis brushed a dark strand of hair from his eyes and tucked it behind his ear.  It was true; the man would not escape, not from the holding room.  Recently remade in the manner of a mental hospital, it had padded seamless walls and soothing Mozart piped in to tranquilize their often-panicked detainees.  Artemis wouldn't go so far as to say that nobody could escape it, but he was pretty sure that one would have to be...well, a different species altogether, to do so.

"You've searched him?" he asked Butler.

"Yes, sir.  I confiscated a number of high-quality stealth weapons, but apart from a paper with your name, description, and location, there was no evidence as to who sent him."

Artemis pulled himself out of bed and reached for a dressing robe, slipping into his slippers.  It wasn't his most awe-inspiring attire, but it was comfortable and he suspected that Butler was intimidation enough anyways.  He grabbed a pair of glasses from a drawer, and followed Butler down the hall.

As they walked, Butler told Artemis how he had caught the intruder on his nightly patrol, (nightly patrol?  Artemis hadn't known about that.  He didn't know when the man found time to sleep) and how he had searched him thoroughly before leaving him to the squishy walls and the Mozart.  Artemis only listened with half an ear, this wasn't the first assassin sent after him and it would hardly be his last.

But maybe Butler hadn't been careful enough with his search, or more probably, he just hadn't found the thin packet in the man's jacket, for when they reached the holding room the man was past questioning, sprawled on the floor and slowly settling into _rigor mortis, a few grains of powdered cyanide still on the plastic clutched in his hand._

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Now, Artemis Fowl was no stranger to illegal, immoral, and all around on the shady-side-of-the-law events.  During his sixteen years of life, he had indulged time, thought, and copious effort into one goal - namely, getting money.  Whether it was embezzled and blackmailed from acquaintances in high places, or obtained in a cross-species ransom, he loved money in all its forms and denominations.  

There were exceptions, of course.  There was the Fairy Fiasco, as Artemis fondly referred to it, when his mother was sick, and a few years later, the rescue of his missing father, once again involving those inhabitants of the Earth that not many humans were aware of.  Artemis liked to think that he and the fairies had a special understanding because of their history together.

Yes, fairies.  Although they were seriously doubted, if not outright denied to be real by the vast majority of _homo sapiens, Artemis knew a few personally, and still occasionally socialized with them.  Prominent among those he knew was Captain Holly Short, a commander in the ranks of their LEPrecon squads, an elite division of law enforcement._

A few years ago, he had finally broke through in the puzzle of their existence that had occupied him for months, and consequently ransomed Captain Short for a large sum of money, simultaneously managing to outwit the finest of the LEPrecon force.  A short time after that, they had put aside their differences and cooperated in the rescue of Artemis' father and the subsequent capture of an insane, power-hungry fairy duo supplying weapons to support an uprising of goblins, the thugs of the fairy world.  

Nothing like that had been going on for some while now.  LEPrecon occasionally called in Artemis for consultation in matters concerning humans, and Artemis informed them when he ran into dealings that appeared to be magical in nature, but there hadn't been any large events, and Artemis hadn't seen any of their race for so long that he doubted they would remember, much less recognize him if they met again.

Of course, his appearance was changed - a lot.  He was a far cry from the pale, bespectacled boy that they had last seen.  He had finally grown, now measuring just about 6'2 in height.  The onset of puberty had also provoked a vain streak, and from the first time he tried contact lenses, he was hooked.

Not that it was strictly for cosmetic reasons that he mostly wore his contacts.  After he had a unpleasant revelation while rescuing his father, one that convinced him that physical strength mattered, he had followed the Greek philosophy of balance of both mind and body, _in all things moderation, etc.  Advanced mathematical theses were followed by time in the gym, with Butler as his private trainer and s__ensei in Oriental fighting methods.  Glasses were impractical while fighting, and after they were broken for the third time, he was relieved to wear the contacts he had previously shied away from._

Artemis' father and mother teased him quite a lot about his "obsession" as they described his training, but then, they didn't really know where his mind was...

Between his parents and school, Artemis usually had a hard time indulging in his favorite shady activities.  Now that his father was back, he had no reason to try to increase the family fortune he supposed, but it was a second part of his nature by now, and in a numbered Swiss account, funds were still steadily piling up away from his parents eyes.

As for school, Artemis was finishing up junior year at St. Bartleby's School for Young Gentlemen.  He had pleaded with his parents to be allowed to take university courses at home, but they had wanted for some reason, a "normal adolescence" for him, and he was consequently forced to suffer through boring classes and arrogant, condescending professors.  He was quite popular with the other students however, mainly because of the brilliant pranks he was constantly conceiving and setting into motion.  (Also, he smuggled them cigarettes.  Never mind that he wouldn't touch the cancer-sticks himself.)

But now it was holiday- the third brilliant day of vacation, forget the chill in the air, it was _summer. And Artemis' parents were supervising takeover negotiations (extremely hostile, Artemis Sr. was a ruthless businessman) in Tokyo, leaving him to his own devices.  Whee._

Which all leads us to this particular night and the advent of Artemis' fourth assassin in two years, the man who was now lying lifeless on the soft white floor of the holding room.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Inside the room, Artemis sat down in the soft-and-rounded chair.  Hard.  He swallowed with difficulty.

A dead man.  A very dead man.  When would he get used to this?  He thought never.  No matter how many dead he had seen, he knew he would never be able to view them with the cold dispassionate gaze that Butler possessed.  Maybe he had just been fooling himself with all his fighting and training, for the sight of those open, empty eyes turned his stomach, forced the bitter taste to rise in his mouth, and chilled his blood.

Butler knelt beside the man and felt for a pulse, though Artemis knew that there would be no life flowing through that still white wrist.  That thought was confirmed when Butler stood up, shaking his head.

"Dead, Master Artemis.  Cyanide poisoning.  He was almost definitely provided with it in case of capture and questioning.  Someone wants you dead, with nothing pointing to them."

"Well that's nothing new," Artemis drawled.  Mustering much more composure than he had thought he owned, he knelt before the corpse, examining the features and clothing.

"We'll have to wait till morning for an autopsy, but he looks continental, maybe German.  His clothes are certainly from that region.  Moderately priced, built for function rather than fashion.  Holds in with the hired-assassin deal."

Butler nodded, and Artemis stood up, brushing off his immaculate knees.  "Show me his tools," he ordered imperiously.

He followed Butler into a room next to the padded one, a room with feed from a tiny camera hidden in the holding cell, and a single long table against one wall.  Butler gestured toward the table, where a variety of objects were spread.

"Over there is everything he had on him," he told Artemis.  

Artemis examined the equipment.  However much this man may have erred in coming here, he had certainly come prepared.  There was a muffled, high-powered handgun, poisoned darts, a razor blade, even a machete-type hacking utensil.  Each weapon seemed to be of moderate quality, holding in with the man's mercenary appearance.   No surprises, until...

Artemis reached the gadgets that the dead man had so distrusted, the techno-skeleton key and electronic scanner and let out a low whistle.

"Butler, come look at this."

Butler obeyed, and glancing at Artemis for permission, picked up the key to examine.  He turned it over, peered at it, and finally pointed out the tiny lettering along one side.

"Koboi Labs," he read out loud.  "This product is protected by copyright laws.  All patent infringements, including but not limited to reverse-engineering are prohibited."

Artemis let out a yelp of surprise and snatched the key away from Butler.  

"What?" he exclaimed.  "Koboi Labs?   _Fairies?  It can't be."_

But his own eyes showed him the truth and his disbelief quickly melted into fuming anger.

"They sent an assassin!" he said heatedly.  "They tried to kill me!   Why would they do that?  That just goes to show you, Butler, you shouldn't trust anyone.  Ever."

Butler regarded his young master (and student) fondly, hiding a smile.  It was a mark of Artemis' experiences that he automatically suspected the fairies for everything.  Not that he didn't have good reason in this case.  Still, it was good to see Master Artemis this angry, good to see him so relaxed back from school.  How long ago would he have just waved it off and considered it logically?  Not very long at all.

"If I may point out something," Butler interrupted. 

Artemis paused mid-rant.  "Of course, Butler."

"This man is human."

Artemis immediately glared at him, but did not voice the retort that sprang into his head.  _Why Butler, thank you __for pointing that out.  How could I have missed that crucial detail?  Instead he merely said, "And?"_

But he realized why almost as soon as Butler spoke.  "The fairies wouldn't send someone human to do their dirty work.  You remember how proud those LEPrecon guys were.  And Koboi Labs was disbanded back when you and that Captain Short caught that girl supporting the goblins.  I doubt that LEPrecon would be supplying them with leftover equipment of that manufacture, even if it was bargain-priced."

"True," Artemis said.  "But whoever hired this man must have fairy contacts, to provide him with this technology."

He picked up the scanner.  It too was of Koboi make, equipped with a tiny nuclear battery like much of the fairy technology.

"I don't know what's going on," he said grimly.  "But I will find out and I will make whoever did this wish that they were still fetal and safe in their mothers' wombs."

His dark eyes were thoughtful as he turned to Butler.  "Good night," he said.  "We'll do the autopsy in the morning, and prepare to give our friends down under a visit.  But for now, I'm going to sleep."

A/N.  I posted this before but realized I had to make some format changes.  Anyways, I'm planning on making this a long story.  There will be romance later on but it will not be Artemis/Holly and NO MARY SUE.  So, tell me what you think?  Please?  ^_^


	2. Enter la fairies!

Hey everyone—I know I didn't have much of an introduction last time, so here goes!

This fic is meant to be long—It's currently about 50 pages in Word but I'm not halfway done.  There are sequel possibilities.  I'm having trouble finding any one genre to place it in.  So, general.

**Kitty Rainbow—Thanks for your review!  You pointed out the glasses thing, well…**

I have an explanation.  Kind of.  I have _no idea_ where that came from.  None.  I think I must be going crazy.  Of course, I wrote this right after Arctic Incident came out, a while ago.  I hadn't glanced at it until I dusted it off and decided to post it.

****

**Kelti—Yeah, not much humor yet but I'm still in the exposition-y type stage.  I put that on a whim, for lack of a better genre.**

God, longest A/N ever.  Not really

This is why I need a beta.  ^_^

****

**Chapter 2**

****

The woman seated behind the desk is tall, slender, and at this moment, extremely panicked.  At fifty-nine years of age, she is not the average businesswoman, but with her cold blue eyes, designer suit, and gray-streaked hair, she isn't anybody's grandmother either.

The phone at her ear is custom made, supporting both normal telephone lines and another, exotic frequency that made the well-paid manufacturers scratch their heads and increase their bills.  Only one person has access to that other frequency, and it is this person that is now talking loudly on the other end.

This person's voice is rough, grating, and male, and the woman sits still, examining the excellent view of the Munich skyline that her office provides, while this person talks.

"You tried to kill Artemis Fowl?  _You tried to kill Artemis Fowl!  You sent an __assassin to kill Artemis Fowl!  What were you thinking?!"_

"The '_assassin' is one of the best in his trade.  Or, was." says the woman sulkily, in flawless English, and is immediately interrupted._

"Are you taking this seriously at all?  The only hope we have of avoiding Artemis Fowl in this little game is to _not let him know anything about it!  And sending a hired assassin to the Fowl Mansion doesn't exactly constitute that to me.  D'Arvit!" the voice swears, and it is this, an absolutely foreign word that sends chills down the woman's spine and makes her wish more than ever that she had stuck to her own species._

"I had no way of knowing that the man would not succeed," the woman tries again, and again she is cut off. 

"I'll tell you how you could have known!  You could have asked me!  I would have told you, Artemis Fowl is a genius, the criminal prodigy of this century, he is the best-guarded person in the world, you had _no chance from the start!  But you had to play your little subversive games and now he'll suspect something."  _

The voice changes suddenly, becomes brisk and businesslike.  "I suppose the man is dead?"

"He has not reported back," says the woman.  "It is two hours past our _rendezvous_, so yes, he is most probably dead."

"Good," says the voice.  "We cannot let Fowl know that we have anything to do with this.  Remember, no mistakes at all!"

The phone is hung up abruptly, but the woman sits motionless for a few seconds, thinking about the powerful equipment she has supplied her assassin with, the technology with patents not held by any human, and she realizes with a dread that she has already made the worst mistake that she could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artemis woke up early the next morning, dragging his protesting body out of bed and stumbling down the stairs to his cup of coffee.

Only it wasn't _made _yet, and he had to do it _himself, _and when he burned himself and dropped a cup, he realized that this was not going to be a good day.  He tossed it down his throat like a shot of vodka, then ran back upstairs to dress in black training pants and a white t-shirt, before flying back to the lab.

Butler was already waiting there, the assassin's dead body spread-eagled on the operating table, and suddenly Artemis felt sick.

"Good morning," Butler said inscrutably and Artemis really couldn't stand the thought of cutting into another person on this morning.  He weighed the options in his head, quickly, then decided just as swiftly and turned back to Butler.

"I think," he said, "that we really don't need to do an autopsy on this one.  You did the lab sample on the poison?"

"Yes, sir," said Butler.  "It was pure powdered cyanide."

"So," Artemis continued, "It's perfectly clear what the cause of death was.  We probably won't find any identification, but we can run his face through the computers just in case.  Er...call somebody to come dispose of the body anyways."

"Yes, sir," said Butler, and Artemis was much relieved.  He pulled out his Pocket PC and scanned the man's face with a patented attachment of his own invention (used mostly by the police, in criminal investigations and identification cases.)

A few minutes later, the man's bump-mapped features were being reconstructed and scanned in select German police files in Artemis' computer lab.  Artemis watches the loading bar idly.  He didn't really expect anything to come up, these sorts were usually very careful with their records, but it never hurt to check.

There was a _beep from the computer and Artemis nearly fell out of his chair in surprise.  There again was the mapped face, but now it had skin and hair and a background surimposed over it, all in glorious pixilated color.  _

Artemis studied the image for a second, then clicked the link beneath the picture.  He was taken immediately to the Munich Police Force's files, where he saw the man's short file.

"Johanne Straussburg," he read out loud.  He skipped the physical stats and early biography, went straight to more recent information.  "Employee of the National German Party, Straussburg is under investigation along with co-workers for political corruption, including bribery, fraud, and fund-raising matters."

_Political corruption, Artemis thought.  __Fund-raising matters.  The file isn't very specific, is it?  Someone over in Munich's getting a payoff.  Someone else over there doesn't want dirt on their organization, too.  _

His mind spun through this information and stopped at one phrase.  _The National German Party?  I've never heard of them...I've been keeping up with their politics, too.  National German Party...employee of...might be worth checking out._

_But first, the fairies._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Captain Holly Short fidgeted in her chair before Commander Root's desk.  

"Did you hear me?" he asked again.  "We have to call Fowl."

"We don't _have to," she said, and even to in her own ears it sounded extremely petulant._

"Yes," Root said, "We do.  I want you to go up there and get him and bring him down here.  He needs to see the girl.  You know he does."

Holly shivered, knowing the truth of Root's words.  There was no way Artemis would refuse to help them if he saw what she had just seen.  And they needed his help.  Badly.

"He'll want something in return," she maintained stubbornly.  "You know Artemis never does something for nothing."

"If it's gold he wants," Root said.  "We're willing to pay it.  We'll give him anything within reason, really.  Just as long as he doesn't want half the kingdom and the princess' hand in marriage."

"I'm not so sure about the kingdom part," Holly said darkly.

Root sent a glare her way.  "Just go see Foaly, okay?" he said irritably.  "He'll equip you and after that I want you on the first chute out of here.  To Tara."

"_Tara," Holly groaned.  "It's the beginning of summer!  Do you have any idea how hard it'll be to get a ride to Tara?  Every rich vacationer in the city will be chartering private rides topside right about now."  She was just looking for something to complain about, and the Commander knew it._

"There's never a good time to go to Tara," growled Root.  "Now get yourself out of here and go see Foaly!"

Holly strode to Foaly's office in frustration.  She knew that they needed Artemis for this case, but she had mixed feelings about working with the human again.  On the one hand, she had accumulated a certain amount of respect for him over the time of their acquaintance.  On the other hand, he was one of the most annoying, frustrating, career-wrecking creatures she had ever come across.

Foaly was standing over a frantic group of techies, bawling them out over some code glitch or other.  The techs gave Holly a relieved look when she tapped Foaly on the shoulder.

He jumped about two feet into the air and let out a horse-like bray of alarm.  Looking around frantically, he relaxed only when he spotted Holly.

"Don't _do that!" he exclaimed.  _

Holly rolled her eyes.  That was Foaly, still as paranoid as ever.  She snickered to herself when she remembered his first (and last) surprise party.  They hadn't _meant_ for it to end up in the emergency room.  But there was no doubt that he was the most brilliant person living.  When it came to technology, at least.

"I'm going topside," she said.  "I need a pod, a set of wings- _good wings, not those old Hummingbirds you seem so fond of giving me.  No weaponry."_

"So what grunt work is Root making you do this time?" Foaly asked.

"That's classified information," she snapped.

"So it involves that Fowl Mudboy, huh?"

Holly ignored Foaly.  She hated it when he was right.  And he was always right.

"Hold on," he said.  "I just got a set of Windwings in today.  Pre-issue, even.  They're faster than anything on the market these days.  Nearly soundless too.  Now you can't complain about the wings."

"I need a pod too," she told him.

"To Tara?" he asked.  She nodded.  Foaly shook his head.  "How am I supposed to get you a pod to Tara?  You'll have to go down to the shuttleport and get one yourself."

"_Foaly," she said in exasperation.  _

He laughed at her.  "Okay, okay I'll see what I can do.  Wait here."

Foaly disappeared behind one of his computers.  Holly listened in interest as he called up the shuttle people, asking politely, then erupting into dire threats when the other end seemed reluctant.  After a few minutes of yells, he came sauntering back to Holly.

"I nearly promised those people my first-born son," he said, trying unsuccessfully not to look pleased with himself, "but I got you a chute to Tara.  You can worship me now, or later if you're too busy."

"You're not even married," she snarled, snatching the wings he held out to her.  "And if I get there and I don't have a pod after all, or they've given it away to some vacationing billionaire, you won't live long enough to have a son."

"Touchy, aren't we?" called Foaly as she stormed through the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artemis was seated in front of one of his ever-present computers, lost in thought.

Or rather, trying to be lost in thought, which was very difficult at the moment.  Juliet, Butler's younger sister, had wrestling on the TV next to him, and was enthusiastically imitating the wrestlers' moves.  And cheering.

"Juliet," called Artemis.  "Keep it down, will you?  I'm trying to think."

If she heard him, she gave no indication.  She spun around and did a body slam into the floor.

"Juliet," Artemis tried again.  "Will you please be quiet?  I can't hear myself think in here!  Go watch one of the other TV's."

She let out a howl of delight as one of the burly men on stage soared through the air.

"JULIET!" yelled Artemis finally, losing his patience.  "Will you shut up already?  My God, I can't hear anything, you're screaming so loud."

Juliet glanced up, giving him a hurt look.  "Fine," she said.  "You didn't have to _yell, you know.  I would have gone if you had just asked."_

Artemis made a wordless noise of exasperation as she stalked out of the room, rigid with indignation.  As soon as she was gone, he settled back into his chair, heaving a sigh.  

They needed to solve the puzzle of this latest assassin.  And to do that, they needed to talk to LEPrecon.  He was ready to leave, Butler was ready, the only problem was; how would they get in touch with the fairies?  All the other times, the fairies had been the ones to initiate contact.  Artemis still didn't know the entrances to any of their chutes, or shuttleports.  Maybe if he...

His thoughts were interrupted (again) by the very answer to his dilemma, in the form of a small, angry person flying through the open window, followed closely by Butler, who scrambled over the windowsill.

Captain Holly Short disengaged her wings as she entered the room, hitting the floor in a roll.  Almost immediately, she stood up and spun to face the Fowl boy.

Behind her, Butler landed beneath the window, breathless from his climb up the handy trellis on the wall.  He dusted himself off, and started toward Holly, who dodged him.

"Artemis Fowl," she said loudly, to the boy in the chair.

Butler noticed Artemis' presence for the first time, and immediately stood up straight, ending his pursuit of Holly.

"Captain Holly Short," said Artemis.  "Why do you people never use the door?"

"I would have," she snapped, "but that Mudman guard dog of yours was watching it.  He followed me as it is.  He's very fast," she added grudgingly.

"Sir, I went after the elf to bring her to you," Butler said stiffly.

"Well here she is anyways," said Artemis.  "Good job.  Captain Short," he continued, turning towards Holly.  "What business brings you here?"

"My orders are to bring you back to Haven City," she said.  "I personally don't think that you can help us, but Commander Root has some crazy idea in his head, and he's the boss."

"Help you with what?" asked Artemis.

"All questions will be answered once we reach Police Plaza," Holly said unhelpfully.

"Let me rephrase that," Artemis said.  "Why should I come with you?"

"LEPrecon has reason to believe that there is a threat to both Mudm- that is, human and fairy security.  As our only human contact, you are needed for consultation."  She paused, then went on.  "We are willing to provide appropriate compensation -monetarily, or otherwise."

_Appropriate compensation.  The words lit up in Artemis' mind, and started that old familiar tingle beneath his skin.  LEPrecon must want his help badly if they were willing to go to all these lengths to talk to him.  Something was up.  Something big._

"Butler?" he said, glancing at the big man next to him.

Butler's forehead was furrowed.  This was just like Artemis, to go rushing in to any situation, no matter how dangerous.  Still, the elf's words didn't seem menacing... they seemed a little desperate, if anything.  This felt... it felt right.  

He nodded once towards Artemis.  _It's your decision, his motion said._

Artemis' eyes gleamed.  "All right, Short," he said.  "We'll come with you."

A/N.  Yes, Artemis has an autopsy lab.  He is a super genius.  Also, a billionaire.  And also, as a part-time criminal, he does not like having inconvenient doctors asking questions about random dead bodies.  Hence, DIY.


	3. It's Epic!

*waves* Hey ya'll!  Chapter 3 finally up—sorry about the delay.  I spent the whole weekend doing some exhaustive fanart for a friend… and studying for exams of course!  I was going to just upload what I already had written, but remember, this is old and when I reread it, I _really_ didn't like some sections.  So, I rewrote it!  Sorry it's so short, though… it's sheer plot exposition!

Reviewers:  I'm going to post replies at the bottom!  I love you all so much, though.  Your reviews are the Breath of Life to my story, honestly.  ^_^ 

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**Chapter 3**

One gleeful elf, a shuttle ride, and two sick humans later, Artemis was slumped in a chair in the waiting room of the Police Plaza.  He tried to ignore the menacing and fanciful people around him.  It wasn't hard; he was using all his concentration on not throwing up.

He wanted to die.

"I hate shuttles," he told himself out loud, earning him even more curious looks from the gnomes, dwarfs, elves, and sprites that crowded the room.  He felt very conspicuous as the only human there.  Besides Butler of course, who was sitting stone still and looking just a little greenish.****

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Captain Short reentered the room.  She spotted Artemis and proceeded to haul him from his chair.

"Come on Mudboy," she ordered.  "Root wants to talk to you."

Artemis allowed himself to be unceremoniously dragged down the hall by an elf half his size, all the while vowing revenge just as soon as he wasn't sick...

At long last, they reached Commander Root's office.  Artemis glanced around the dingy, windowless little room before turning to face Root's desk.

"Lovely place you have here."

Root's face may have darkened, but being nearly purple already, the change was a little hard to notice.

"Shut up and sit down, Fowl," was all he said.

Artemis sat down, pointedly taking a while to get comfortable while Root went through some more interesting color changes.  

"So, Root," he said finally.  

"Mudboy," Root interrupted immediately.  "Let's get some things straight.  As much as it pains me to say it—which is a lot—we need you."  He winced.  "Ooh, the agony."

Artemis very carefully did not let a smug grin spread across his face.  He had always known he would get Root to admit his help was needed someday.  He felt all warm and fuzzy as another one of his life goals was fulfilled before his eyes.

"So Fowl," Root continued.  "I'll explain everything you need to know, and then we'll need to take you down to the new labs.  Later we can take you back up to …"

"Commander," Artemis said suddenly.  

"What?" 

Artemis glanced down to his long fingers.  "What was it… last time we talked… You know, that whole alien debacle?  Well, you called me something I think, just before I left…  What was it again?"

Root grunted.  "A sniveling, traitorous, cowardly, greedy little defective excuse for a pathetic Mudchild."  He stiffened when he heard what he had just said.  "Er... I mean a valuable asset and irreplaceable part of our cross-species team?"  It looked as though the words pained him to say.

"Right," said Artemis.  "That's what I thought."

Root scowled deeply and sent Artemis a furious stare from beneath his heavy eyebrows.  Artemis lifted one of his own slender eyebrows, and waited.

"A—situation—has come to the attention of the LEP," Root said finally.  "We believe that the matter involves your species…for various reasons."  He cleared his throat.  "The fact that we are asking _you _for help should show just how serious this is."

For once in his life, Artemis kept his mouth shut.  Maybe Root's mood was infectious; maybe Artemis just didn't feel like making a snide remark, maybe he was getting soft.  Root was silent for a brief moment as if expecting comment, and went on with a faint air of surprise when he realized there was none.  

"To fully understand the problem," he said, "We're going to have to take you down to our labs to see something.  All your questions will be answered there."  Without further ado, he stood up and ushered Artemis out of the office, shutting the door behind him.  

Holly Short fell into step with them as Artemis followed Root down the hall.  She turned to grimace at Artemis, then engaged in a whispered conference with Root.  Artemis didn't try to listen.  It was obvious that the fairies were determined to do things their way, whether he liked it or not.  He just hoped they would stop playing games soon and get to the issue at hand.

"We're going to have to go down the street to the science compound," Holly announced as they turned a corner.  "It's just a short walk but most of the city's inhabitants have never seen a human before.  Since we over here at the LEP have a little policy that goes 'Don't cause mass panic, except on Tuesdays', you're going to have to wear a disguise."

She and Root ducked into a room opening off the hallway, and Artemis followed, wincing as his head brushed the top of the doorframe.  The room was filled with racks of clothing and hundreds of cosmetic containers.  

"This is basically the costume department," Holly told Artemis.  "We've got any thing you'd ever need for an undercover assignment."  She started rummaging through one of the clothing racks, and finally turned, pulling a black cloak out with a flourish.  "See?!" she said.  "The answer to our problem!"

Artemis looked levelly at her.  "That's my disguise?  A cloak."

"A _big_ cloak," she corrected him.  "You just put it on-" She demonstrated.  "Pull up the hood—and tada!  Either a very large elf or a somewhat small troll!"  The fabric shadowed her face completely, falling to the floor and beyond, puddling in wide black pools at her feet.

"Thank God for the brilliant minds and advanced technology of the LEP," Artemis said, taking the cloak from her.

A few minutes later, they were hurrying down the crowded sidewalk.  People of all shapes and sizes veered out of the way as Artemis approached.  

"Could you try not to be so _big_?" Holly hissed, unobtrusively kicking a passing sprite that happened to bump into her.  

"_Excuse me,_" Artemis hissed back.  "I'm sorry for not being able to _shrink _at _will_!"

"Well, hunch over or something because people are looking at you!"

Artemis thought that the stares might be spurred more by the huge bloody black _cloak_ he was wearing, but he gritted his teeth and tried to oblige.  A dwarf gave him a terrified look and leapt out of his way.

"I hate all fairies," he said under his breath as he stalked along.

"Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity, Mudboy!" called Holly from somewhere in front of him.

Artemis was relieved when Holly pulled him through the door of a tall steel-and-glass building.  She led him down a labyrinth of gleaming white halls, studded on either side by formidable metal doors.  They saw no other fairies as they went.

Finally, Holly stopped in front of one of those uniform doors.  She folded her arms and looked at Artemis, who looked right back.

"Well," she said.  "Go in."  

"I thought you were going to explain everything to me when we got here."

"I _will_," she said.  "In there."  She was obviously not going to say any more.

Artemis very nearly rolled his eyes—_fairies_—but managed to keep his face smooth as he opened the door.

He walked into the room.  It was brightly colored, with soft walls, and dozens of shimmering fairy toys littered the floor.   It looked like a dream of a child's playroom.  Artemis let his eyes sweep the perimeter briefly, but when he saw the figure seated at the center, he blinked and nearly lost his composure.

The most beautiful girl he had ever seen turned her face up to him and smiled.

She looked to be about his age, maybe a few years younger, although she was small and slender for her age.  Her hair was long and red-gold.  It fell in bright waves down her back and over her shoulders, brushing the smooth cream of her cheeks and clinging to her neck.  Artemis' gaze moved to her lips, full and red, and her ears, which seemed odd somehow, underneath those masses of hair….

When he got to her eyes, he completely lost his balance and sat down, hard.  On the floor.

Her eyes, a soft, clear blue, were as empty as a doll's.  

She turned her head back towards him at the sound, and smiled again, reaching out awkwardly in his direction.  Her arms seemed unsteady and thin, like those of a newborn child or the victim of a long illness.  When she moved, her hair swung forward, baring the tips of pointed ears.  

Artemis stared, without moving, at those eyes.  The pupils were gone, missing.  A wide sweep of golden lashes framed flawless irises, blank and perfect like a cloudless sky.   

"She's blind," Holly said, coming to stand beside him.  When he turned to look at her, the fairy's features were carefully dispassionate, but when the girl on the floor looked towards her voice, an indefinable emotion flickered across Holly's face.

"What…" Artemis said, and cleared his throat.  "Why?"   The girl smiled again, and crawled toward him on hands and knees, clumsily.  She stopped just short of him, and reached out, tracing his features with delicate hands.  He sat inert, unable to move away from her touch.

"Two weeks ago," Holly said, "A pair of LEP officers on a routine sweep in an uninhabited part of the city stumbled upon what seemed to be an illegal genetics lab.  The scientists at the lab put up a resistance, and as hard as LEPrecon tried, all but one were killed in the ensuing shoot-out.  Before the last could be arrested, he took his own life with a shot of poison.  Inspection of the lab yielded dozens of illegal technologies, most using Koboi patents.  Even though all Koboi-manufactured items were seized by the LEP after the company collapsed.'

'In a back room, this girl was found.  The officers at first took her to be human, but closer inspection revealed fairy characteristics—the ears, for example.  It's a pity nothing could be learned from her—as well as being blind, she's mentally handicapped, all brain growth inhibited at a human level of about two years.  Genetic analysis revealed that she was sterile as well, and LEP scientists discovered the reason—chromosome incompatibility."

"Because she's half fairy, half human," Artemis said wonderingly.

"Exactly," Holly said, and her voice was cold.  "Human genes and fairy genes are so inherently different that the resulting incompatibility rendered her blind and mentally retarded as well."

She turned to Artemis, her eyes glinting angrily.  "Research like this is outlawed for a _reason_.  Nearly fifty years ago, when the field of genetics was first being explored, scientists _tried_ this.  The embryos they created never survived—with the exception of one time.  That one embryo, when brought to term and allowed to grow, was recognizable as neither human nor fairy.  No intelligence was present at all—while the creature could go through simple routines, there was no communication or feeling ever witnessed.  It was no better than an animal.'

'They kept it in a lab somewhere remote—trying to hide the evidence of their own failure, I guess.  Thirty-five years ago it attacked its caretakers and killed them.  It took a LEP squad to finally bring it down."

Artemis shivered, suddenly more aware of the girl in front of him, now poking gently at a toy, a metallic butterfly with silken wings that lifted into the air at her touch.

"LEP needs to find whoever is behind this.  It wasn't an isolated incident—as well as the Koboi things, there was over a million human dollars' worth of open-market equipment in that lab.  It was being funded by somebody."

Artemis' mind was racing as he considered the possibilities, but suddenly one question stood out in his mind.

"This is very interesting," he said coolly, "But it seems to me like this is a fairy problem.  Things at LEP must be pretty bad if you're bring me in just to track down a couple of mad scientists."

Holly smirked suddenly.  "Not just a fairy problem, Mudboy.  There were messages on their computers from an email address on the human Internet.  No, I'd say this is very much a human problem as well."

**Trisani Slytherin**- Sorry about the reviewing inconvenience, that's been fixed.  Now why don't you try again?  ; )

**Ryyan**- Thanks!

**Kitty Rainbow-** I'm glad you think I've done well, and thanks for the tips on Artemis' speech—I'm still subconsciously letting my own speech patterns fall through to my writing, but I'm working on it!  And the National German Party… It's got an explanation (of sorts) on my author profile…

**Kelti**- Glad you noticed the fairy-tale detail (ooh that rhymed).  I hope this chapter answered some of your questions about "the girl" and the LEP pod thing was a blooper on my part.  Good catch!

**Blue Yeti-** I've read some of your work; it's absolutely gorgeous and I'm honored that you like this!  

**Ciza-** You liked it so much, you posted five times?  Lol just kidding—thanks anways!

**Sora Potter-** I'm trying, I really am!  Stupid school…

**Animefanatic07-**  Well, Artemis isn't _quite_ normal… his parents think so, though!  And while Artemis is a genius, in terms of experience and sheer mechanical knowledge, Foaly probably takes precedence in technological matters.  I usually think of Artemis as more of a logistics/creative thinking genius.

**Addicted-** glad you think so and glad you like it!

Thanks again ya'll!


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